


Waking Up Zombie

by Bettybackintheday



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 06:32:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5118686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bettybackintheday/pseuds/Bettybackintheday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written as a treat for Live Journal's Halloween extravaganza in be_compromised. This is only intended as a quick sugar rush -- short, sweet, and nothing of substance. Hope you like it!</p><p>When Clint wakes up in S.H.I.E.L.D. medical, he's shocked to find his condition went from concussion to contagion. Or did it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waking Up Zombie

Natasha couldn’t believe she got the staff to play along with it. Then again, given Clint’s notorious bad attitude anytime he got stuck in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s hospital wing, it shouldn’t have surprised her that they would jump at the chance to give him a hard time. Having Maria stand to her right and oversee the proceedings made it more surreal. And funny.

As concussions went, he’d certainly had much, much worse. He would have a nagging headache for a few days, but no long-term negative effects. Unless he counted his outrage for the prank that was about to go down, that is. She knew full well that payback – whenever he unleashed it on her – was going to be spectacular. She was willing to pay that price and accept her comeuppance. This was going to be good.

As the nurse showed up to enter Clint’s room, she was in a full contamination suit. Waking up to that would be enough to freak anyone out. Wait ‘til he got a peek at the remarkable makeup work that turned his ruggedly handsome face into that of a skin-peeling zombie. Truly terrifying stuff.

The window was darkened and allowed the crowd that had gathered to peer in, but nobody inside the room could see out. His timing perfect as ever, Director Fury walked to the front of the crowd and situated himself immediately to Natasha’s left. “Agent,” he offered in greeting.

“Director,” she replied and made no attempt at an apology.

The nurse in the room waved a substance under Clint’s nose and he began to stir. He opened his eyes slowly and became aware of everything in the room. As he focused on the nurse his eyes grew wide and he asked, “What the hell’s going on? The last time I was awake you told me I had a concussion. What’s with the gear?” he asked calmly but clearly irritated.

“Agent Barton, we were so wrong. I’m sorry to have to tell you this. You contracted a foreign virus. We don’t know how to contain it,” she all but whispered. Natasha smiled. Director Fury remained stone-faced.

“Whoa. What, exactly, are you talking about?” he asked as his voice noticeably rose in pitch.

“We don’t know. We’ve got our top people working on it, trying to figure out what it is. And then how to cure it, how to cure you.” She continued and had to fake a sob to cover her uncontrollable laugh, “Agent Morse is heading up the team. She’s sure she’ll develop a cure, she just hopes it’ll be in time.”

Bobbi, his ex-wife, was in charge of saving his life. Well, he thought to himself, this was most likely the end. As he turned back to the nurse, she was inching toward the door. “I can’t be in this room too long. We don’t know the level of contagion we’re dealing with. Is there anything I can send in?” she asked.

Clint just shook his head. “Nah. But if you could ask Agent Romanoff to check in with me, that’d be great,” he said stoically.

“Of course. I’ll let her know you asked for her. In the meantime, if you must get out of bed, please don’t look in the mirror,” she said with a deadpan expression.

“Why c—“ began Clint.

“Trust me, Agent. Just don’t.” With that she slammed the door. And broke down in hysterical laughter in the hallway.

Just like clockwork, Clint got up and walked right over to the mirror. He felt fine. Not even the pounding headache he expected. About the only thing he noticed was how hungry he was.

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed as he looked into the mirror. His face was white, he could see nearly every vein. There were scabs everywhere. He looked at his hands to find the same. His eyes darted from the mirror to his hands and back again. And I’m so hungry, he thought. Am I hungry for brains? “What the –“

A knock on the door shook him from his horror, only to be struck by a new one. In walked Natasha. She had on street clothes. No protection – not even a mask.

“Hey,” she said to him.

“Hey?” he shrieked. “Get the hell out of here! You’ll be infected!”

“I don’t care,” she stated as she continued to walk toward Clint. He backed up into the wall and then slid sideways along it to try to keep distance between them. Not something he ever wanted to do, but he couldn’t risk spreading this virus to her. Why didn’t she understand?

When he was cornered, he considered diving under the bed and using it as a barrier. But something in her eyes made him pause. She always had that effect on him. He wanted to do the right thing, but if she wanted to do something else, damned if he could avoid her charms, even after all these years.

He allowed her to walk right up to him and engage him in a kiss. A kiss? Was she insane? They’d been an item, privately, for quite some time. But still…

“Do you have a death wish?” he breathlessly asked.

“Not at all. In fact, they should have your discharge papers signed and filed by now. I’d like very much to continue this in private,” she whispered.

They could hear the muffled sounds of clapping, whistling, and cheers. Clint’s eyes narrowed to slits. “What’s today’s date?” he inquired through gritted teeth.

With a small tilt of her head and a sly smile, she answered simply, “October thirty-first.”

“You do realize, if I didn’t love you, I’d hate you,” he stated.

She smiled widely, licked her thumb, and began to rub at the bridge of his nose. “Ya know, you have something on your face…” They both began to laugh.

Outside the room, Director Fury began to read off the names and total winnings of those who won the BlackHawk: Do They or Don’t They pool. There were several categories, each with a “win, place, or show” level winner. He normally frowned upon this sort of thing. However, the pool took on a life of its own over the years and needed solid management. As she walked away counting her cut of the pot, he silently acknowledged that Hill had done a damn fine job with that.


End file.
